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I don’t know. Don’t know anymore, my purpose, destiny, do I even have any? don’t know anymore.

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Destiny Myself Purpose

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Writers block grappled our souls, we fought back with our words.
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Ourselves Soul Word Writing
The opening chords of our rhapsody, lulled me into a state of bliss, as the glistening sunrise in your eyes, intoxicated my soul, drew me in.
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I’m my daddy’s little warrior, I’m the writer of my destiny.
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Your artful hands, hold my delicate heart, tenderly gaze at it, as if its an art.
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Is it a blessing or is it a curse, to feel everything so deeply.
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I think I’ve mastered the art, of taming my wild heart, now my heart doesn’t flutter, thinking about you.
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Art Heart Master Tame Thinking Wild Yourself
I don’t care how many times I fail, for one day, I will succeed. And that success will be worth a million failures.
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I opened the door to emptiness, traded my emotions for numbness.
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You’re a patched tapestry, of deep childhood trauma’s, and unkept promises.
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Am I just a overthinking maniac? Or am I the girl that got left behind?
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Can you hear my silence? I’m screaming pretty damn loud.
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When you talk, it feels like a song, and when you walk by, the time stops.
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Paper and pen petrify me, for they pierce right through me, drawing deep blue blood, leaving me utterly cold.
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I used to be a mighty dragon, the one that breathes fire, I used to be a magical unicorn, sprinkling rainbows everywhere, but now I’ve lost it, the magic hidden within.
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Breathe Dragon Fantasy Fire Lost Magic Myself Sadness

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